It involves a lot of housework. A lot.
Not being a super organized -- or super energetic -- person, the amount of housework that I do is probably a little more than it necessarily needs to be if I would simply pick up after myself a little better. Something I'm working on.
Smoky (my man, Dana) and I live in a two bedroom duplex right near the college he is attending. We got a pretty good deal because the landlord liked renting to college students. Woohoo! I have my first kitchen complete with a pantry, even. Something I was informed by both my mother as well as my mother in law that they didn't have in their first home. So maybe I'm a little spoiled?
We got tons and tons of stuff as wedding presents, for which I'm very grateful. I am reminded of exactly how many dishes and appliances we received because most of them are sitting to the right of the sink in the kitchen waiting to be washed. See, I come from a family of nine kids (yeah, I was the oldest), so when there are dishes by the sink, someone does them at some point. But here in this shiny new apartment, the only other person I can look at to do the dishes is my dog. Along with height and hygiene issues, there's that little matter of not having opposable thumbs, so realistically the only person responsible for the dishes is me. If I go down with a cold, the dishes piiiiiiiile up. And no small child hops along to clean it on my behalf.
Granted, Smoky does a wonderful job picking up my slack when I catch a bug. He is very patient with me and helps out where he can, when he's not doing homework, or when he's not knocked out after a really busy day. This I appreciate very much. :)